


alchemy to express your love

by devilsalwayscry



Series: Valentine's Day 2020 [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Demonic Behaviors, Gift Fic, M/M, Partial Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Twincest, Valentine's Day 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsalwayscry/pseuds/devilsalwayscry
Summary: Dante glances down into the mixing bowl before Vergil with no lack of suspicion, trying to decide if the contents are a plant, an animal, or something else entirely."Please tell me you aren't planning to cook that," Dante says.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Valentine's Day 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691797
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	alchemy to express your love

**Author's Note:**

> For Valentine's Day, [I asked my Twitter followers](https://twitter.com/desalwayscries/status/1228398108884819969?s=20) for some short fic requests. This was oldsneakers': "DV - Cooking an infernal recipe w/ some freestyle worldbuilding. Like baking the Qliphoth pie, but cozier!"

Dante glances down into the mixing bowl before Vergil with no lack of suspicion, trying to decide if the contents are a plant, an animal, or something else entirely.

"Please tell me you aren't planning to cook that," Dante says, as the thing inside of the bowl wriggles around aimlessly and makes a high-pitched little squeal. Which tells him that it's definitely infernal, whatever it is, although moving and screaming don't answer the "plant or animal" question. Even hell flowers have a mind of their own, in Dante's experience, so a little movement is just par for the course.

"Yes," Vergil says. 

He reaches into the bowl and prods the thing with a claw, which makes it squeal again, but at least stop moving, before he picks up a small, stone mortar and begins crushing the whatever-it-is. Dante shivers.

"Why can't you eat normal food like a normal person who lives in the normal human world?" Dante asks, taking a few steps back when Vergil begins to fiddle around with a glass mason jar full of some kind of shimmering, milky liquid. It's pretty, whatever it is, like a constellation in a bottle--it glows with its own internal light, burning brighter when his brother spins the bottle around once to more thoroughly mix the contents before removing the cork on top and dumping it into the bowl with the plant.

"It's not food meant purely for sustenance," Vergil says, as he blends the remains of the demonic plant and the potion into what looks almost like demented oatmeal. "Although it does have some caloric content and could serve that purpose as well, should the need arise." He smiles, lopsided and sharp. "I make no guarantees to the taste, however."

"That's disgusting," Dante says, peering over Vergil's shoulder warily at it. "You're disgusting."

Vergil shrugs. "I prefer to think of myself as practical."

"Alright, smart guy. If it's not meant to be food, then what the hell is it." 

It had screamed, which Dante is fairly certain he will never get over. Though he supposes animals probably scream too--

He shakes his head. Bad thoughts, gross. 

Vergil spares him any more considerations to the meat industry by holding up a spoonful of his infernal oatmeal. "It is a mix of a hell fern, the name of which I will not bother with because it sounds something akin to--" and then he clicks, sort of, and makes a strange guttural noise, and Dante stares at him blankly because god he hates it when Vergil does that sort of thing, "--and I've never quite mastered that language, and a potion similar to the concoction that goes into the alchemical object known as an Invincible."

"Which means..."

Vergil sighs, clearly annoyed with Dante's lack of deductive reasoning, and jabs at his cheek with the spoon. "It will make your demon stronger, for a time, at least."

"Why's it always got to be strength with you, huh?" Dante says, backing up from the spoon. "Can't it be, like, it gives you great skin, or it cures chronic back pain, or--"

"Demons don't care about such things."

"Maybe you should! Use your mad scientist powers for good," Dante says, and Vergil sighs, shakes his head, and grabs Dante's face in his now-clawed right hand. He wastes no time in shoving the concoction into Dante's mouth, who sputters once before his brother's clamped a hand over his lips with a very obviously mischievous grin, forcing Dante to swallow the stupid shit or choke.

It tastes like... peppermint, honestly. And dirt. Something about it makes the back of Dante's throat and his sinuses tingle, the sensation working its way down his throat and settling uncomfortably in his stomach; the moment it does, he shivers, and his wings burst into vibrant life on his back.

Oh. He hasn't been able to pull off a partial trigger like that since they left hell.

"What the hell is wrong with you," Dante says, when Vergil has released his mouth and stepped around him to inspect his bright, glowing wings, which Dante folds against his back in an effort to spare his poor shop from any collateral damage. "Why am I always your guinea pig?"

"It's easier to observe the effects on another person," Vergil says, as if this is a perfectly rational response. Asshole. Dante love-hates him so much.

"What if I'd died." Dante turns so he can grab Vergil, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. He uses the wings to cage his brother in--useful things, really, he missed having them all the time.

"You wouldn't have."

"Maybe I'm allergic to--" he tries to make the guttural, hissing noise Vergil had made before. He's certain he fails. "Maybe I'm allergic," he concludes instead, and Vergil just laughs.

"I'm not," he says, simply.

"God, you're such an asshole." Dante tilts his head down, stealing a kiss for his troubles. "Kinda cool, though, if it lets me keep this up."

Vergil just grins.

Smug bastard. Dante kisses him again for good measure.


End file.
